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Roughly 9 PM, March 10th, 2017, last night of gun season-

Jeff, Billy and I went down to the south end of the county, turned off the blacktop highway and drove a good 15 minutes on stone roads. We dropped into a bottom and Billy said "This is the place."

We got out, I put my light on my cap, shouldered my XT-22 Mexican style and walked around to the back of the truck. Billy and Jeff were leashing up Susie and Speck, the two best **** dogs in Floyd County. We walked the dogs about a hundred yards to a gate and turned 'em loose. "GIT 'EM, SUSIE!!" Susie and Speck left lookin' like a pair of Tom Cats launching off a carrier deck.

30 seconds and 50 yards later, Susie and Speck struck. We made our way to the tree. Billy and Jeff had the big lights, so I unshouldered my rifle and took the keeper off the bolt handle while they were looking. Jeff hollered "Come 'ere, Jim!" I walked over. "See 'im right there?" Two glowing dots in the beam of Jeff's spotlight gave away Rocky's position. "Dead or alive, you're comin' with me."

I found a sapling I could brace on, planted my feet and worked the bolt on the XT-22. My thumb instinctively went to the push button on the rear of the 350 lumen light fastened to the fore end of my rifle. I settled into the scope, got the parralax worked out and found those two glowing dots. "Say goodnight, Rocky." I put the crosshairs dead center between those two dots and eased the three pound trigger back. POP! The CCI Blazer landed. About three seconds later, WHOOOMP! He hit the ground.

Susie and Speck jumped him and commenced to wear his assets out. Jeff was hollerin' "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!", trying to get the dogs off the carcass. When we finally got everybody separated, I realized I had just killed a pretty good sized boar.

I rigged a carry sling around the ****'s neck, Billy and Jeff caught the dogs and we headed back to the truck. When I got home, I put the carcass in the freezer. Next mornin', I called Gary Quesenberry to ask him for a price on mounting it. The price was reasonable, so I loaded the **** in my truck and took it to him.

Gary stays covered up with work, so it took him six months to get it done. It was worth every minute I waited for it. My **** tied for first place in biggest **** to ever come in Gary's shop. 19 pounds. That would explain the WHOOMP! from 65 feet up.

Procyonidae Mammal Procyon Cat Felidae
 

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good story and nice ****. I have always said the raccoon is the meanest orneriest critter in the woods and this one is a beast. I would have been glad he was in a tree and not on the ground until the Thump.
 

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Discussion Starter · #12 ·
good story and nice ****. I have always said the raccoon is the meanest orneriest critter in the woods and this one is a beast. I would have been glad he was in a tree and not on the ground until the Thump.
You ain't just whistlin' Dixie, Woodrow! I had one o' them ringtail bandits latch onto my hand one time. God a'mighty, Josie! I had to shoot him in the head with a 40 caliber while he was chewin' on me!
 

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Great story! I bet that's the rascal that's been fattin'en up on my cat food! Nineteen Pounds! What a whopper. Nice job on the mount too!

My BIL took me on my first (& only) **** hunt when I was about 17-18 or so. He and his brother had two dogs they hunted together and Brooks (my sisters hubby) wanted me to try out **** hunting, because he knew I loved to deer & bird hunt. We walked and walked and walked, chasin them two dogs, for what seemed like 20 miles. They knew the dog's bark and howls well enough to know which dog was doing what, from at least 1/2 mile away. I didn't think there was anyway they knew where we were after all that trasping through the woods that night.

We finally heard the dogs tree one, which livened everyone's spirit. I know we had been walking in circles for 3-4 hours before they treed. We get up to the tree and Brooks says "Now shoot 'em outta the tree, but don't kill 'em." "Huh? How ya supposed to do that?" "Just shoot him anywhere but the head". Well, I'm a deer hunter, so I shot him behind the front leg. Killed him dead.

We never saw another **** that night, they never asked me to go **** hunting again, and I never asked to go again. I decided it takes a certain kind'a person to hunt ***** with a dog. I ain't that kind. But my Grandmother sure cooked up some nice BBQ'ed **** anytime I'd shoot one outt'a the crib or the t'backy barn.
 

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Discussion Starter · #15 ·
Great story! I bet that's the rascal that's been fattin'en up on my cat food! Nineteen Pounds! What a whopper. Nice job on the mount too!

My BIL took me on my first (& only) **** hunt when I was about 17-18 or so. He and his brother had two dogs they hunted together and Brooks (my sisters hubby) wanted me to try out **** hunting, because he knew I loved to deer & bird hunt. We walked and walked and walked, chasin them two dogs, for what seemed like 20 miles. They knew the dog's bark and howls well enough to know which dog was doing what, from at least 1/2 mile away. I didn't think there was anyway they knew where we were after all that trasping through the woods that night.

We finally heard the dogs tree one, which livened everyone's spirit. I know we had been walking in circles for 3-4 hours before they treed. We get up to the tree and Brooks says "Now shoot 'em outta the tree, but don't kill 'em." "Huh? How ya supposed to do that?" "Just shoot him anywhere but the head". Well, I'm a deer hunter, so I shot him behind the front leg. Killed him dead.

We never saw another **** that night, they never asked me to go **** hunting again, and I never asked to go again. I decided it takes a certain kind'a person to hunt ***** with a dog. I ain't that kind. But my Grandmother sure cooked up some nice BBQ'ed **** anytime I'd shoot one outt'a the crib or the t'backy barn.
Everybody's got different ways of doin' things. I wouldn't go huntin' with them fellas a second time, either.
 
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